


Cruel Comforts

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: Squishy MegOp [12]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Rubs, Comfort Eating, Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fat Robots, Fluff, Food/Feeding Kink, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post War, Weight Gain, belly stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: Pit, how much had he already eaten? It hardly mattered. What mattered was that every bite that he took of the delicious frozen dessert brought with it the comforting sensation of fullness.---In which Starscream is cruel, and copious ammounts of ice cream are used as a coping strategy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving belly stuffing, unhealthy eating, and weight gain.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

Optimus Prime stuffed yet another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. Pit, how much had he already eaten? It hardly mattered. What mattered was that every bite that he took of the delicious frozen dessert brought with it the comforting sensation of fullness.

The humans had a term that described this kind of behaviour - comfort eating. The humans also had a term that described the fiasco that had occurred earlier this afternoon - bullying. 

Starscream had always been an acerbic and unkind mech, but today his words had abjectly humiliated the Prime. Optimus shuddered with displeasure at the memory – he didn't want to recall even a single moment of the seeker’s cruelty.

Prime’s spoon scraped the last dregs of ice cream from the bottom of a tub labelled “Experimental Flavor #361”. It was one of Shockwave’s most recent creations, and easily among the scientist’s best. He then set the empty tub aside, balancing it atop a steadily growing pile of similar containers.

Not even pausing to consider his actions, Optimus rose and staggered heavily to the kitchen. Cradling his massively swollen chassis with one sticky servo, he retrieved yet another tub of ice cream from the fridge. It was the second-to-last remaining container, and the label indicated that it contained Megatron's favorite - fudge ripple.

He collapsed back onto the couch with a groan of exertion, tearing the lid from the container and immediately digging in. However, he had barely managed to consume even three spoonfuls before his gorging was interrupted by his conjunx's irritated voice.

"Really, Prime?” Megatron stood in the doorway, optic ridges arched with displeasure. “Is nothing sacred?"

"Extenuating circumstances." Optimus replied grimly, struggling to keep his tone level. Despite his best efforts, his vocalizer still wavered ever so slightly, an audible tremor of distress.

The warlord's EM field momentarily flared with concern, engulfing the Prime with uncharacteristic sympathy. Muttering a curse, Megatron quickly regained control of his treasonous field and settled heavily beside Optimus on the sofa.

The unfortunate, overworked sofa, which creaked with protest beneath the bulk of two massive mechs. 

Megatron looped an arm around his conjunx’s thick chassis, his claws pinching teasingly at the rolls of malleable plating. "I sincerely doubt that I'll care." The warlord’s tone was wry but fond, coaxing an explanation from his Prime. Optimus had an unfortunate habit of repressing his emotions, of internalizing every slight against him, and it had proven to be damaging to his processor health.

"Starscream was being unkind." Optimus explained grudgingly, speaking between spoonfuls of ice cream. It was a severe understatement, to say the least. 

Megatron eyed the pile of empty tubs that had accumulated beside the sofa, knowing full well that his conjunx was being less than honest. One or two containers might have indicated "unkind". Three containers might have indicated "hurtful". Four or five might have indicated "cruel". This many? Pit, he couldn't fathom what his Second must have said.

"Frelling insubordinate glitch," there was a hint of a growl in Megatron's dangerous tone, and his claws clenched reflexively, digging deeply into the Prime’s soft plating. "I'm going to tear him strut from strut."

An all-too-familiar and rather pained frown formed on the Prime's faceplates as he scolded his conjunx. "Violence is never the answer. Harming Starscream will accomplish nothing of value."

"Lord High Protector is more than just a title," Megatron replied firmly, taking care to loosen his grip. “The Protector is the sworn guardian of the Prime, and I take my duties to Cybertron very seriously." Duties that in his opinion included mutilating anymech who so much as dared to insult his Prime.

The warlord pressed a placating kiss to his conjunx's frowning lipplates, relishing the sweet stickiness of the other’s mouth. As he pulled away, he licked some stray ice cream from the corner of the Prime’s lipplates and hummed with satisfaction. As usual, Optimus was delicious. And judging by that unwavering frown, still incredibly disapproving.

"Besides," Megatron smirked. "Starscream is overdue for a dismantling. The Decepticon Tyrant's Guide to Planetary Conquest recommends a minimum of twice per decaorn for traitorous Seconds.”

The Prime gave a huffed exvent that may or may not have been a stifled laugh. Mentions of The Guide never failed to bring a smile to his faceplates - truly, his conjunx had written a remarkable work of satire.

Optimus knew that he had no chance whatsoever of changing Megatron's mind, and that the argument was lost before it had even begun. He was well aware that his violent conjunx viewed the act of defending the Prime’s honour as a romantic gesture, and that disallowing such behavior only led to misery.

Besides, it was strangely flattering.

The warlord drew the Prime into a comforting embrace, and Optimus complied, leaning heavily against his Protector's frame. The movement, however, prompted a sharp pain from his chassis, and Optimus groaned with discomfort. He'd reached his limit with ice cream - and proceeded to surpass it twice over while fuelling mindlessly. His tanks were fit to burst.

Megatron smirked, prodding the strained bulge of the Prime's chassis with a teasing claw. "It seems that my greedy little Prime is being punished," he chuckled, impressed despite himself. Frankly, the warlord wasn't sure that even his own massive stomach could handle that much sugary fuel in one sitting.

Optimus glared half-heartedly at the warlord. Did they need to have yet another talk about condescension?

That teasing smirk became a genuine smile as Megatron began to move his servos in soothing strokes across the Prime's aching chassis. Optimus shuddered with relief, stifling a moan as he leaned into the warlord’s touch.

Megatron eyed the mostly-full container of fudge ripple, and the smirk returned, only this time it was far more devious. "Surely you don't intend to waste that?" He inquired with amusement, gesturing to the container.

"Not at all," Optimus replied with a grateful smile. Thankfully, enough of the ice cream remained for his conjunx to enjoy at least a small snack.

"Good," Megatron purred. He dug the abandoned spoon back into the container, gouging out a generous amount of the partially melted frozen dessert. Then, he raised the heaping spoonful not to his own lipplates, but to the Prime's.

With a fondly exasperated exvent, Optimus opened his mouth and accepted the fuel. It was clear that Megatron wanted to stuff his tanks so full that he succumbed to fuel-induced recharge, to stuff his tanks so full that he forgot all about this afternoon’s incident, lost to the world in a decadent haze of ice cream and affection.

Affection. Genuine affection, not expressed through the violent mutilation of other mechs. The Prime knew to treasure every moment of it.

Optimus rested his over-fuelled bulk contentedly against the soft rolls of the warlord’s thick plating, allowing Megatron to feed him spoonful after spoonful of fudge ripple. He knew that the ministrations of his conjunx's servos would keep the pain in his tanks at bay. 

Comfort eating was proving to be far more effective when the Prime was aided in the endeavour by the mech that he loved. Optimus briefly wondered whether the humans were aware of the benefits of such cooperation, but immediately dismissed the notion as foolish. 

No human had a conjunx as perfect as Megatron.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, MORE squishy. I think I'm obsessed - send help.
> 
> Anyway, I've been writing a lot of squishy, confident Megatron lately, so I figured it was high time for some squishy, insecure Optimus Prime.
> 
> Also, PepsiGo - I'm working on that Squishy mechpreg fic you requested. Hopefully it'll be the next thing I post. Anyone have any other requests?
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
